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Hasty Bank and an Old Gatepost
Whenever I‘m Out & About, I rarely start out with any sort of plan. There might be a vague idea of a route, but more often than not, I just make it up as I go along. Some might call that reckless, others might deem it inconsiderate or just plain annoying, but I like to…
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A Monument to Ingenuity: The Story of Bransdale Mill
It is said that the waters of Hodge Beck have powered a water mill here in Bransdale since the 13th century. The current range of buildings, a veritable monument to early 19th-century ingenuity, was built in 1811 by William Strickland, a man with grand visions of increasing the mill’s capacity. To this end, he exuberantly…
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Kildale’s Wet Dig
And so the rains came to St. Hilda’s chapel, bringing a somewhat damp close to the archaeological dig season in picturesque Kildale. What mysteries lie behind those enigmatic stone footings — which bear more than a passing resemblance to a garden feature than to any sacred structure — must now remain hidden for yet another…
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The Lofty Adventures of Dolly Shepherd at Pickering
Pickering Castle, a fine subject for waffling about in a blog post. Built originally of wood on a motte, naturally, because William the Conqueror was far too busy harrying the North to bother with stone at first. Only later did the Normans decide to fortify it properly, as one does, adding a curtain wall, towers,…
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From Hill to Hill: Chasing Leys Across the Moors
I have nearly finished a book recommended to me after a posting about an ancient trackway over the North York Moors. I found a copy of Alfred Watkins’ 1926 book on eBay—naturally, as one finds such treasures in this modern age of commerce. Watkins postulated the existence of ley lines, an idea that prehistoric sites…
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The Baysdale Barn That Time Forgot
Ah, the approach to the decaying edifice—otherwise known as a barn—familiar to anyone who has spent time wandering this remote part of Baysdale. Here I am, hurrying along a bridleway on the northern side of the dale, with the tantalising memory of veering off and subjecting myself to the rigours of climbing over into the…
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Like mother, like daughter
This morning on Ingleby Bank, under a welcome autumnal sun, I was watched with deep suspicion by a yow and her gimmer lamb. Moorland sheep, we are told, have been fixtures of the North York Moors for centuries, as essential to the scenery as wind and drizzle. With their woolly coats that protect them from…
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From Drainage to Divination: The Cheshire Stone’s Secrets
I recently stumbled upon the theory that a stone – the Cheshire, or perhaps the Cheddar Stone as some insist on calling it – perched on on the edge of Urra Moor, has a natural basin which has been carefully modified in prehistoric times by the addition of a notch to channel the water outflow…
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Rosedale Wyke to Ruin: The Decline of Port Mulgrave
Every time I visit Port Mulgrave, I am struck by how little it changes—save, of course, for the gradual but ceaseless gnawing of the harbour by the North Sea. Today, I didn’t manage to descend to the beach, not that I missed much, for from Rosedale Cliffs I could see quite plainly that the old…
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The Overlords of Kildale
Park Nab, a smallish sandstone crag, much favoured by the climbing fraternity, who no doubt delight in the view over Kildale—suggested by some to be the dale of a forgotten Viking named Killi. Perhaps he might be one of those unfortunate Norsemen discovered inconveniently buried under the church floor during the 1868 rebuild. Quite fitting…
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